


The Silence Between Heartbeats

by anarchycox



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Crack, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia is Bad at Feelings, Jaskier knows Geralt better than anyone, M/M, Minor Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Post-Season/Series 01, True Love's Kiss, everyone is sort of bad at feelings, just assuming Jaskier and Geralt made up at some point, magic spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23089135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: Geralt faced off with a sorceress, only instead of her magic killing him, it stole his voice. But this should be an easy fix, he knew many women who could heal this.But that would mean anyone noticing something wrong. He knew he was quiet, but seriously, did no one wonder why he wasn't saying a single thing? Months he traveled silent, no one noticing and it was driving him mad.Until he runs into Jaskier, who notices immediately that something is wrong.Because of course it is Jaskier. Who else in the end would it be, who properly saw the White Wolf?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 234
Kudos: 2787
Collections: Best Geralt





	1. Chapter 1

He hated sorceresses. So much. Yes, some of the people he was closest with were sorceresses, but that rather proved his point he thought. He could be close to them, and still rather hate them. Geralt glared at the woman once the smoke around his face cleared. He opened his mouth to yell at her, only nothing came out. He tried to shout, but again nothing.

“Oh, well that is a touch unexpected, that was supposed to paralyze you until you shut down and died.” She was watching him, with that uncanny stare so many sorceresses had.

He tried to say, _Witcher_ , because magic never hit him the way it would a human, but again when he opened his mouth no words came out.

“This will be interesting,” was all she said as she formed a portal and ran through it. He ran and managed to grab her hair, but the portal closed and he was left with a hank of blonde locks. Geralt shouted but there still was no noise. He wrapped the hair into his pack because it might be useful for tracking her down later. But for right now, he needed help.

Fuck.

Yennefer was a week’s ride away, Triss two. But Triss was more likely to be of help in this situation. He set on the path for Triss. He was grateful it wasn’t one of the times Jaskier was with him, because if he had been hit with this, things would be a lot more dire. Geralt being silenced should be easy to fix.

*

“Geralt,” Triss had that almost smile on her face. “Welcome.”

He opened his mouth and then closed it, nodded. He mimed writing something down, and she just frowned at him.

“Do you attempt magic against me Witcher?” 

He frowned and shook his head. He tried again to use his hands to demonstrate writing. He just needed a fucking piece of paper and this would all be done with. He had seen people do this, it was obvious.

“You need a raven’s wing. You could have just said.”

How the fuck she thought that meant raven’s wing he had no damn clue. He shook his head and tried again.

“Geralt, enough, I don’t have time for this. I’m in the middle of a delicate brewing stage for a disease that is striking our people.” She stormed into her rooms, and came back a moment later. “There all my raven wings. Come back in a month.”

He stared at his full hands as he heard the clank and thud of a door being barred. Fuck. He knew enough not to bother her again, if she was brewing as she suggested. He added the raven’s wings to the pack. He never could get near enough to pluck a feather or two.

When he had needed them Jaskier would call the birds down and easily pluck the feathers, but he was off teaching songwriting at the university. And not like he would be a help with this. Jaskier would just laugh at Geralt's current predicament.

So now he was off to Yennefer.

When he arrived they had taken one look at each other and fallen into bed for three days. He was sure she’d rather notice how quiet he was. He didn’t necessarily talk a lot when they fucked, but he usually complemented Yennefer or at least cursed a bit when her cunt clenched around his cock. When they finally were worn out he smiled at her, sure she would comment on the lack of talking, and this would be fixed. Instead she got up and dressed. They went to the kitchens and she stared at the stove. He cooked them some food. 

“Ciri is doing well, I have letters from her. You were right to send her to school. Away from us.”

That was what she wanted to talk about? Geralt had letters too, and had been to visit her just before his encounter with the sorceress. Ciri was thriving, but looking forward to traveling with him in the summer. He glared and pantomimed for writing, and at least she understood what he meant.

“Yes, writing, you know letters?”

Apparently she didn’t.

He tried again. 

“Now you are making fun, that she and I share a kinship? Are you mocking me? Do you have a death wish?” She was clearly getting worked up, which meant either more sex, or her trying to will his guts out of his body.

Why the fuck wasn’t anyone listening to him? He shook his head and tapped his throat. He mimed writing once more.

“No, you -” She glared. “Now you give the silent treatment? Are you a child? Because she prefers me to you, like any sane person would.”

He slammed his hands on the table and glared, because that was horseshit, Ciri did not like Yennefer more than him. He opened his mouth to yell at her, sure that his sheer anger at her presumption would bring his voice back. But nothing.

That was bullshit.

Yelling at Yennefer should absolutely break the curse, everyone wanted to yell at her.

“Cat got your tongue?” She was doing that smirk thing she did when she was so certain she had the upper hand. 

He nodded, because yes some cat did have his tongue. 

“Can’t even be man enough to admit I’m right. Your dick is good, but not enough to put up with this. I’ll see you when it is time to collect Ciri from school. Goodbye, Geralt.”

He planted his feet, because he wasn’t going anywhere until this godsforsaken spell was lifted. Except if she wanted a man gone, he was leaving and it felt like his shirt was being pulled, and two minutes later he was out of her home, all his belongings dropped on his head.

Geralt flipped off the house, and climbed a top Roach. Bastard horse was absolutely laughing at him. Ciri, he realized. Ciri would understand him, and the school she was at had some of the best minds in all the nations at it.

There we go, only another month of travel and he’d be fine.

*

“Geralt!” He caught her as she came running to him. He swore she had grown again. The last flushes of youth were leaving her. He picked her up and spun her around. He smiled at the way she laughed.

He had fucked up so much with her, and the fact that she laughed with happiness when she saw him, suggested maybe he wasn’t as horrible as he believed most days. He let her drag him through the school chattering away about her classes and her friends.    


It was a much more welcoming place than where he learned his trade.

Hell was more welcoming than Kaer Morhen.

Actually he had vastly preferred the hell dimension he had once spent a few weeks in, at least it was warm. He listened to her continue to talk and only zoned out a few times - he was getting better at that.

But he needed her to focus. He stopped her in the garden, when she showed him the flowers she was growing. For a moment he was distracted by the thought of how Calanthe would react to her granddaughter growing posies. He then remembered he needed to focus as well.

Geralt lay his hands on her shoulders. He tapped his throat and shook his head. He mimed writing and she looked concerned. 

“Oh no!” 

Thank you, yes finally someone understood there was a problem.

“You should have said you strained your throat.” He looked at her and Ciri flushed. “No, I suppose you couldn't have said that. We have wonderful medical care here, I am sure that they will be able to ease your pain. Have you been sick long?” She was hurrying and he followed her. In a medical room, there would be scrap to write on and he could explain.

The doctor was a decent sort but no one seemed to understand when he mimed writing down. He wanted to throw the tea he had been given across the room, but he would not make things difficult at the school for Ciri. 

Geralt drank the concoction and smiled his thanks. He reached for his pocket but it was waived off for all the help that Ciri gave rolling bandages and the like. Ciri looked so proud of herself for helping, that he couldn’t tell her what they had done was useless.

He kissed her head, and slid her some money. She tried to get him to stay for supper, there were spare beds to be found, but he shook his head.

There was a sorceress to be found.

Or not.

6 weeks of searching and nothing. No one could help him because he didn’t speak and no one understood when he mimed for pen and paper. He was pretty sure that was a part of the curse. Well, he had watched Yennefer call people to her, he thought he could remember the symbols to draw.

He summoned a striga.

He fought all night and when she was dead, he passed out next to the corpse.

He dreamed of the woman who did this to him.

“You look...is that defeat in your eyes? The stoic Witcher defeated by the silence he swears he always craves?” She laughed and he swung out, but it was a dream so he never got near her. “But I thought you wanted quiet.”

“Not like this.” He blinked at the sound of his voice. “I can speak in my dreams?”

“It has taken you this long to notice?” She laughed, and the chill of that sound went down his spine. “Your dreams so very unmemorable?”

He never remembered his dreams, he knew he wouldn’t remember this. “Why did you do this to me?”

“This was not my intention. I wanted you dead. But I admit, this has been much more enjoyable to watch. You are so taciturn with those you care about that they didn’t even notice your silence. What does that say about them, that they don’t notice your suffering? What does that say about you, that they so very expect that lack of engagement from you?” She moved closer, smoke and shadow.

If she had been real, he would have been choking the life out of her.

Her mouth was against his ear. “The whole wide world and no one knows you enough to know you are suffering. I’ve thought many things about Witchers over the years, shame to learn that in the end they are just pathetic creatures.”

“How do I beat this spell?” he called to her as she began to walk away.

“How should I know? You weren’t supposed to beat in the first place, remember?” She waved and was gone.

When he woke he remembered none of the dream but there was a vague ache in his chest, in his heart. Nothing physical, it was just...hollow.

There was nowhere else to turn. He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did. This was the rest of his life. 

Well, time to get back to killing things.

Not being able to talk for jobs wasn’t as much of a hindrance as he expected.  It seemed Jaskier over the years had sung of his silent glower, and deep stoicism that not speaking was almost expected. He did the job and was paid. 

And the quiet was driving him mad.

He sat at a corner table facing out to the room when a man approached. “Witcher, there are mutated wolves in the woods. This is the money we can pay you. Don’t worry, I know from the songs that you prefer to keep your words to yourself, lest a djinn steal them. Just nod if you agree.”

He gave a faint nod and the man smiled, gave him a few of the coins as an advance and walked away.  That was a new one. And it had been a sorceress who had stolen his voice. Fuck, Jaskier must have been peddling new songs at some point.  Geralt banged his head on the table. He wondered if he could bang it until he passed out.

“Now now, none of that, do you want to bruise all that pretty you going - Geralt you look...well...everyone has an off day. Not me, I’m stunning of course, but never you mind. It’s been months. I missed you!” Jaskier sat down across from him.

Geralt gave a noiseless snort. Great, if all the powerful women in his life had not noticed, Jaskier certainly wouldn’t. He didn’t even bother miming for paper or tapping his throat. Jaskier would talk for the next hour and then either be on his way, or stay attached for the next few weeks and never noticed a thing wrong.

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, far more weary than he cared for.

“Geralt, what magic has sway on you?”

What the fuck.

Geralt opened his eyes and looked at Jaskier who was staring at him solemnly. Bullshit. He opened his mouth and closed it. He shook his head.

“You can’t speak?”

Geralt tapped his throat and sliced his hand, quickly.

“Blade or spell?”

Seriously, this was not happening. It had to be a dream. But no dream would smell as this tavern did. He mimed writing.

“Of course I have paper, when don’t I have paper? Geralt inspiration can strike at any time. ANY. You know I always have paper. Really.” Jaskier went to the bar, and fetched his satchel from behind. He opened his journal and handed his lead to Geralt.

_ Spell gone wrong. Meant to kill me, stole my voice. _

“How long?”

_ 4 months? _

“Well, why didn’t you go to Yennefer, she’d fix this. This would be easy for her skills, and then you two would stare all broodingly at each other, fuck for a few days, and then you’d be on your way again. Because you two are far too intense to ever manage together longer than that.”

He was a touch annoyed at how accurate that was.

_ Fuck off _ .

“Really, when I am the person who is going to help you tsk tsk? I know just the person to go to. Should only be three weeks journey.” Jaskier smiled at him. “And think of how I will fill that silence with my glorious new songs, Geralt. And you? You will not be able to say one rude thing about them."

_ When I get my voice back… _ Geralt stabbed the lead through the journal.

“Yes yes, threaten, menace, I’m terrified. Shall we? After you kill whatever they want you to kill of course.”

Fuck.

Jaskier.

It just had to be Jaskier who figured it out.

But there was a hint of hope, and he would take it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay some feels sneaked in which means the expected two chapters is going to be three.

Geralt, despite what several people thought, was capable of learning. And he learned a fair bit over the next three weeks.

First, that the students Jaskier had been teaching apparently lacked the elan and stamina to be truly great bards, though a couple had shown promise.

Secondly, if you suggested that maybe Jaskier was a poor teacher, the paper got taken away.

Thirdly, throwing acorns at Jaskier’s head didn’t work like he expected it to. Turned out Jaskier was fairly good at using the back of his lute like a bat and hitting them away.

When he had been finally allowed parchment again, he wrote that he was surprised at Jaskier’s reflexes.

“I have traveled with you for how long? I might not be able to kill a drowner, but I sure as hell learned how to dodge, my friend.”

Geralt supposed that was fair. It seemed also that Jaskier was able to easily translate the hand signals Geralt used. Most were battle signs he was adapting, to signal for food and rest, and please for fuck’s sake Jaskier, shut up for one minute. Not that Jaskier actually did shut up.  Jaskier was too wholeheartedly enjoying that Geralt could not complain about the singing, or rambling conversation. And since he couldn’t tell Jaskier to stop, and Geralt had never been good at completely tuning Jaskier out, he found himself actually listening.

Geralt wondered if Jaskier even knew how much he was telling Geralt. Words just flowed out of him. They always had, but this felt different. He asked Jaskier about it when they were close to their journey’s end.

_ You are talking more _ .

Jaskier snorted. “I’ve always talked to you. A lot. You just never listen.”

_ I listened _ .

“What was my favourite treat growing up?”

_ Elderberry jam _

“Shit, didn’t expect you to get that right. Still I don’t think I am talking any more than I usually do.”

_ It is different _ . Geralt watched him read that by the fire’s light, and Jaskier was quiet. If he went that quiet it meant that Geralt was right, or at least Jaskier believed he was right. Which almost never happened. Jaskier thought Geralt was wrong as much as Geralt thought Jaskier was foolhardy.

“I suppose that I’m not tense, waiting for you to cut me off. I know I talk too much, and it drives you insane - with joy of course. I’m telling you true things now, because before if I did, you just grunted and didn’t care. So, since you can’t grunt, I’m pretending you care, and telling you the things I would share with the person who is my very very best friend in the whole wide world.” Jaskier smiled a bit. Geralt wondered how a smile could be both fond and sad. “I suppose I am taking advantage of the chance to let you know me as well as I know you.”

_ No one knows me _ . Nothing terrified Geralt than the thought of truly being seen, being known. 

“Well that’s just bullshit, I do,” Jaskier said. He picked up the lute and began to sing.

Geralt had paid enough attention over the last few weeks, to learn that Jaskier played when he reached the point where he felt he had said too much.

He was not impressed by their final destination a few days later. He gestured at the small hut on the edge of the woods and glared.

“Oh I am sorry that you are used to Triss, and Yennefer who work for kings and have giant keeps and tra la la. Can’t help but notice they didn’t fix you, so maybe we trust me, just this once?” Jaskier actually pointed a finger in his face at that.

Geralt trusted Jaskier, he wouldn’t travel with the man if he didn’t. How didn’t Jaskier know that? He just nodded and slid off Roach. 

Jaskier knocked on the door that was barely attached to the hut and they were called in. “Uncle, I have a friend in a bit of a pickle! He could use your light handed touch.” Jaskier's voice was painfully cheerful, and there was a small scent of fear on him.

Geralt snarled, something that would have sounded terrifying had it made any noise, when the man in the hut punched Jaskier in the face. He moved forward and had the man dangling in the air, knife ready to disembowel him. He glared, who cared about a cure, no one hurt Jaskier.

“Geralt, don’t. He just doesn’t like visits, because he is a miserable old man!” Jaskier shouted. “What would Mother say?”

“Your mother was a whore.”

“Now now, be original when you insult your sister, lest her ghost haunt you.’

“It already does. What do you want boy?” 

“Geralt put the miserable bastard down now, he’ll behave, especially when I show him this.” Jaskier pulled a small flask from his satchel and sort of waved it in the air. “Yes, it is what you think. You want it? You help Geralt.”

“I see you are still well and thoroughly cursed.” 

“Enchanted, Uncle. The word is enchanted.”

Wait, what? Geralt gave Jaskier a look. 

“It’s nothing,” Jaskier waved it off.

“The fey cursed you boy, when you were a babe! You are befouled, bespelled, a mutant.”

Geralt started to move forward, this man really wanted to die.

“You are one to talk, with how you want what is in this flask. Now help my friend, or I drink it all.” Jaskier spun the lid off and held it to his lips.

“Fine,” the old man snapped. He properly took a look at Geralt, and Geralt stared back. “Boring,” he said after a moment. “Nothing to be done here.”

“Why?” Jaskier asked. “He clearly has a spell on him. He is silenced, that is some decent magic, as it has lasted months.”

“Because he wants it to,” the old man replied. He held out his hand for the flask. “Done and done. Payment please.”

Geralt looked at Jaskier, and wondered what Jaskier was exactly seeing on his face. Because Jaskier came over and squeezed his shoulder. Jaskier took the dagger from Geralt’s hand. “The flask, and some of my blood, for a proper explanation.” He held the dagger against his arm. “Well?”

Geralt shook his head no, swiftly. There could be no good in giving a man like this some of his blood.

“It is a spell gone wrong, supposed to kill him I bet.” Geralt nodded. “But being the monster he is, it didn’t quite work.” 

Jaskier drank half the flask, and the old man screamed. “Call him a monster again, Uncle. This is rare enough that it would take you years to get the half left in here. Do you risk it?”

When the fuck did Jaskier drop his balls enough to scare people? Because the old man looked terrified at being without that flask. And then Jaskier winked at Geralt. Brazen and cheeky was a bit more inline with his Jaskier.

Jaskier, not his Jaskier, that was a stupid thought.

“The spell lingers on him, because he wants it to,” the old man said. Geralt felt his lip curl, and he snatched the dagger back from Jaskier. The old man didn’t need his tongue if he was going to speak nonsense. “It’s true. It is on you plain as day! You cannot speak because you have words trapped deep in your soul. When you are ready to speak those words, then your voice will likely return.”

“Likely?”

“Well if he doesn’t figure them out within a year of the spell falling, his voice will be gone forever. I assume, magic always fucks you up.” He was pointedly looking at Jaskier as he said that, and now Geralt was planning to pluck his eyes out.

Jaskier took the dagger back and drew a thin line of blood, which he then smeared on the table and he put the flask down next to it. “There we go, payment. Thank you, Uncle.”

“Go away, monster and never darken my door again.”

“Always a pleasure,” Jaskier said, and left the hut.

“He is cursed,” the old man whispered to Geralt. 

Geralt kicked the table as he left and the flask spilled. The man’s screams followed him out. 

“Were you naughty?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt just shrugged. Not really, the man was alive after all.

They walked away from the hut and eventually made camp for the night. Jaskier played a bit and Geralt thought about what the old man said. He gestured for the book and Jaskier handed it to him.

_ Are you cursed? Yennefer can fix it. Or Triss _ .

“I’m not, I swear I am not.” Jaskier wasn’t looking at him. “I didn’t want to tell you, because I don’t know why. I was born at the exact same second as a faerie prince. And when that rare instance happens, a boon is given. They visited my parents and looked into my future and gave me a blessing. They I guess saw the music in me? And as long as one person in the world, truly heard my voice, heard my song, not with just their ears, but their hearts - I would never age. It took until university for my song to truly touch someone. Bobbled a bit back and forth aged one year in ten, but then, well one song happened, and I haven’t aged since the first tavern I sang Toss a Coin to Your Witcher in. You made me immortal, Geralt. How’s that for an accomplishment?”

Geralt had no idea how to respond to that.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Geralt knew how to respond to that and wrote  _ fuck off _ , in the journal. As usual the paper was taken away from him. It was a restless sleep that haunted him that night and the next few. He wasn’t even really paying attention to the road they were travelling, too busy mulling what he learned from Jaskier, about him. And how the silence was apparently self imposed.

Eventually they found themselves back at Ciri’s school. He looked at Jaskier in confusion.

“It is time for you to collect her for summer break, Geralt.”

Fuck.

Sure enough, Yennefer was soon standing next to them. “Oh look, you brought your little songbird.” Geralt glared and flipped her off. “Still being childish, this is new for you. Jaskier’s influence?”

“Are you so far up your own arse, that you can’t see he is trapped in a spell?” Jaskier moved forward. “You left him to suffer for months, because he was a jackass? He’s a jackass all the time and we all endure.”

Geralt threw an acorn at Jaskier’s head, that was swatted away. He smiled a bit, and threw another one.

“See jackass. But I still helped him, because that is what we do for our very stupid best friends who are dumb enough to get stuck in a silence spell.”

“I would have noticed if he was ensnared,” Yennefer replied. Geralt glared as she stared at him.

“Not if you two were too busy playing hide the sausage,” Jaskier replied. “You do get very singularly focused around each other. Fuck, glower, emote bitterness and chaos, and move along.”

That was about right, Geralt thought. Yennefer cast on him, and he tried to talk.

“It isn’t on him anymore. But it is?” She cast again. “This is both incredibly weak and incredibly powerful. No such can exist together.”

“Ah, yes, see the Mad Man of the Frozen Winds and Willows, said Geralt is keeping it stuck on himself until he says the words trapped in his heart. So I’m figuring, boom, he admits he loves you and all is good?” Jaskier turned to him and smiled, and Geralt knew it was a false grin. “There you go, tell her you love her, and will be a happy little odd family with her and Ciri and we all go on our merry way, and I’ll have one hell of a song to sing.”

Geralt opened his mouth and closed it. He felt many things for Yennefer, but the love he had for her, wasn’t the sort of love Jaskier seemed to think it was.

“Oh, I thought that was it.”

“He doesn’t love me, bard,” Yennefer snapped, “And I wouldn’t want it if he did.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he said. “Well maybe you have to say something to Ciri. And here she comes.” He pointed and Ciri was indeed running out of the school, a servant carrying her bags.

Geralt opened his arms, but she ran to Jaskier first, who picked her up in a tight grip.

“I missed you!” she said, and Yennefer huffed a bit.

“I missed you as well, poppet,” Jaskier kissed her forehead.

“The treats you sent were a joy to everyone.”

What treats? Geralt looked at Jaskier in confusion.

“Oh, like I was going to trust you two, to set her up right. You probably gave her a dagger, and Yennefer poisons.” Both Geralt and Yennefer nodded, what else were you to send your child to school with? “I sent a couple care packages. Baked good, new naughty songs for them to learn, couple puzzles.”

That was…

That seemed exactly like Jaskier. Geralt reached out, and squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder in thanks.

“Geralt,” Ciri held out her arms, and he picked her up and breathed her in, that perfect linen smell. He kissed her head as well, and then she hugged Yennefer as well.

“You are quiet even for you, Geralt, does your throat still pain you?”

“Like to point out the child at least knew something was wrong with Geralt,” Jaskier muttered. Geralt stepped in front of the small bit of electricity that Yennefer sent in Jaskier’s direction and gave her a pointed look. “He has a spell on him, but we are all going to go to Yennefer’s keep, and get him all sorted.”

What?

“What?” Yennefer looked at all of them. “No.”

“I counter with yes!” Jaskier challenged.

“I do as well, we must help Geralt,” Ciri looked worried.

Geralt would prefer her to never frown. He nodded and turned what he hoped were pleading eyes to Yennefer.

“You just look constipated.” But she formed a portal, and they all went through.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading. i am anarchycox on tumblr, come on by if you want.

“I am sorry, that I didn’t realize the problem,” Triss was making him a potion. None of the other dozen she had made worked, but she kept trying. “But to be fair, you are just horrible at miming out actions.”

_ Jaskier understood _ .

“Yes, well, that just makes sense,” she replied. She stirred and then poured it into a cup. “Drink.” At least it tasted better than the last couple. “Now try to speak a truth of your heart. The deepest truth in it.”

Geralt tried to say something, but as always nothing came out. 

“What was it this time?”

He glared at her. She always made him write it after, trying to figure out if what he said was true enough. But she just gave him that implacable stare of hers, the one that meant she could out wait him, and that he’d be a fool to try.

_ You are a dear friend and I appreciate you _ , was what he wrote down and Triss smiled.

“I thank you, but we both know that is not the deepest truth you hold in your heart. Because if it were, you’d be telling me how disgusting the potions have tasted right now.”

That was fair. She went to touch him and he eased away a bit, before relaxing. Her hand had dropped away though, and she went back to the fire.

“Geralt, may I suggest something?”

He gestured for her to continue. He would appreciate her counsel on this situation, it had been a couple more months, soon they would return Ciri to school, and after that, well, each day hope dimmed that he would regain his voice.

“Your answer lies in those you let touch you. No potion of mine, no friendship we carry. Look to them for the answer you seek.”

Geralt knew that meant she’d be leaving. He stood and moved in front of her. He gave a bow of thanks. He held out some coin and she waved it off. Or tried to, he wasn’t letting her travel without addition money. He pressed it at her until she took it. Geralt smiled a bit when she took the pouch.

“This happening was not the worst thing you know.”

He knew that, he had been a war and fought monster’s for fucks sake. He rolled his eyes a bit at her, and she just shook her head. 

“Try not to be quite so stubborn. At this point, I'd almost you’d rather welcome never speaking again.” She pointed at the door and he knew to leave. He went for a walk outside, and practiced his forms with his sword. Not that he needed it but it soothed him, the routines of his youth. He thrust against a practice dummy, and smiled when he heard another clash of sword.

Ciri was doing much better. He moved away from the dummy and held his sword in a ready position. She matched him, and they went through the forms together. He stopped and gestured for her to do it again. Geralt adjusted her stance in a few places, and then they slowly shifted to combat. He swung slow and she countered. He nodded when she did well, and enjoyed the way each small head tilt caused her to beam. 

They switched to daggers and worked on that for a time. As of yet she wasn’t great at throwing them, but a few stuck in her target, which showed improvement. They stopped, and sat on a log, drank some water together. He looked at her flush from exercise, ever eager to learn more.

He was sure he know what was in his heart.

But the words “I’m proud of you, daughter” made no noise. She turned and looked at him, and Geralt kissed her head.

“Another round?” she asked eager for more training, more time together before the months apart.

He nodded and settled into a defensive stance.

Ciri charged forward and they fought.

*

“Say what is in your heart!” 

Geralt had his hands on Yennefer’s breasts, and she was riding him hard. Nothing else had worked so they were trying the fuck the truth out of him method. They had done it enough there was starting to be chafing.

They were always good together, but it was rather starting to feel like work.

Also, it was really fucking hard to think when Yennefer angled her hips like that. 

But there was no truth deep in his heart, that related to Yennefer. They were what they were together. It was good, and it was bad, and a million things in between, and there was no secret about it anywhere to be found.

For the first time in her bed, Geralt lost interest and gently lifted her off his softening cock. He rolled her onto her back and licked his way down her body. He wasn’t interested in the sex anymore, but he wouldn’t leaving her aching, and hungry. He brought her off with fingers and mouth, and her hands sank into his hair. 

When she was satisfied he sat up, and hung his head in his hands. Geralt froze when her arms wrapped around him. He turned his head and was sure she could read ‘the fuck’ on his face even in the dim candlelight.

“Yes, I am hugging you. You looked pitiful.”

Geralt leaned into her touch, brought her hand to his mouth, and kissed the scars on her wrist.

“What is hidden in your heart, Geralt, that is so terrifying you’d rather be silenced forever than speak it out loud?” 

He just gave a small shrug, if he knew, he would have said it by now.

“A bit of me is always going to be yours, Witcher,” she kissed his shoulder. “But our time is done.”

He pulled her onto his lap and they sat as much skin touching as they could, because they knew something was changing, forever, and that was a very long time for them. Yennefer eventually slid off his lap and put a robe on.

He stood and stroked her hair one last time. Geralt kissed her gently and went to his own rooms. Where a hot bath was waiting. He sighed in contentment and slid into the water, scrubbed down well. Bless whatever magic of Yennefer’s made there always be a hot bath for when he returned to his chamber.

Geralt thought of going to sleep, but he was restless. He went upstairs to the small tower attached to the home. His steps quickened as he heard lute music from it. He had been so busy spending as much time with Ciri as he could, he had perhaps been ignoring Jaskier.

He went into the room and Jaskier was working. He knew Jaskier knew that Geralt was there, but he didn’t look up from the notes he was making. Geralt watched him write.

With the desk, and candles, the parchment, he looked exactly what he had been recently, a university instructor. The clothes were even a little more subdued, befitting the station, instead that of a wandering bard. Geralt felt oddly comforted watching him work. He settled into a chair once he had angled it for the best way to watch. Jaskier hummed to himself a bit, would strum, and back to his writing.

“Would you prefer I call you a stoic fool, or a noble moron in this song?” Jasker asked not looking up.

Geralt flipped him off.

“Well really, how else would you describe this situation?” Jaskier looked up for a moment and went back to his writing. “You’ve presumably tried to speak a truth to those you hold most dear, your favourite people in the whole world, and not a sound has passed your lips.”

That wasn’t quite true. Geralt had been avoiding Jaskier.

No he hadn’t been avoiding, just busy. That was all, busy.

Jaskier put the quill down. “Let me know what you think,” he said and played the song. Geralt closed his eyes and listened. It was a very sad song about a cursed king and his frozen heart. Because Jaskier was the subtle sort. It was, for those sorts of things he supposed a decent enough song. He rubbed his heart a bit, because it ached for some reason. The king lost his love in the song, because he couldn’t crack the ice that encased his heart.

When Jaskier finished, Geralt gestured, and Jaskier handed him his journal. It flipped to a different page, and Geralt saw that Jaskier hadn’t written over their conversations, or torn them out, they were all just there. There was space on a page and he wrote on it.

_ Do you really think there will be no happy ending to the tale? _

Jaskier just shrugged. “Triss couldn’t fix you, your love for Ciri didn’t fix you, and well Yennefer…”

_ Hers and mine time has passed. _

“Huh, guess means I don’t have to get those baths ready for you anymore. Which is good because timing the water right is awkward when you two decide to go for a few more rounds.”

_ You? _

“Well who the hell else would it be? Who else in this place takes care of your stoic fool ass?” Jaskier said. “Whenever we’re together I always take care of you. It’s why you keep me around. The clean shirts, the arranged for baths. I know you don’t keep me around for the songs.”

_ I don’t keep you around, you just stay _ . Geralt was very sure of that. Years and he had never actually keep Jaskier. Jaskier just showed up, and Geralt went along with it. Jaskier put a hand on his shoulder, and Geralt didn’t flinch away from the touch. He never moved away from Jaskier’s touch.

“Geralt, perhaps, maybe, just maybe, it is time for you to stop being a fucking coward about this whole thing?” Jaskier grinned at him, and Geralt wanted to bash the lute over his head. “Because you know what words you have to speak to get out of this situation, and you are too chickenshit to do it, because god forbid whoever it is meant would then know you as well as I do, and it would, what, turn you into stone for two people to know you?” Jaskier huffed a bit. “Now I want to work on this song more, and I know you hate the repetition that happens when I work on a song so scoot along!”

_ Ha! You don’t know me that well, I like hearing it when you work on your songs. _

Geralt watched Jaskier’s eyes widen as he read that, and Geralt had been so focused on wanting to one up Jaskier that he hadn’t even realized what he was writing.

Fuck.

“Geralt?”

Geralt decided he was tired after all, and hurried out of the small tower.

“You come back here, you pain in the ass Witcher!” Jaskier shouted after him, but Geralt ignored it and spent the next three days hunting in the woods, until it was time to take Ciri back to school.

*

“Now, this poison will make whoever takes it actually throw up their intestines, this one will turn a professor into a chicken, and this one -” Yennefer, and the whole group froze, when Jaskier plucked the small box away from her.

“I’ll take these contraband items. She can have the dagger Geralt is trying to slip her.”

“And by whose authority, you pathetic creature do you dare?” Yennefer snarled and her eyes glowed.

“Well as one of Ciri’s professor’s it rather makes sense, I confiscate such items isn’t it?”

“What?” Ciri gasped with joy, Yennefer said in surprise, and Geralt mouthed silently.

“The school wanted to improve its music offerings, and poetics. They asked that I join their faculty. And I couldn’t resist being around Ciri, could I?” 

Ciri squealed and leaped at him. “This will be wonderful.”

“I will be absolutely strict on you, no preferential treatment just because you are my dau - a dear friend.” Jaskier flushed a bit.

Geralt heard the almost slip and frowned a bit. He wondered why Jaskier would consider her a daughter, he would have thought more a niece. But then the more important aspect of the conversation sunk in.

Jaskier was staying here.

That couldn’t be right.

Geralt shook his head and glared at Jaskier.

“What?” Jaskier frowned. “I thought you’d be happy. Someone looking out for Ciri, even if they are more useless in a fight, then a molded log.”

He pointed at himself and Jaskier, and then the road.

“I don’t follow,” Jaskier said.

Geralt threw up his hands, that was the point. That Jaskier wouldn’t be following. Jaskier should follow. Be with him, because it was all just fucking better when Jaskier was around.  Everything was just better with that bumbling moron.  Geralt pointed at himself, at Jaskier and at the road again. When Jaskier seemed confused, Geralt thumped his sword, then Jaskier’s lute, and pointed at the road.

“Oh, this is just too funny. It is the worst play ever,” Yennefer said with glee and Geralt ignored her.

“I think Jaskier would be a wonderful teacher, and it would be a delight to have family with me all year.”

He and Jaskier could visit more in their travels.

“I don’t understand, you regularly, frequently, always when we reach a village, say ‘well, see you in a few years’ and go to the tavern or whorehouse.”

Yes, but Jaskier seldom listened to him, it was more habit than anything. He didn’t actually want the man to go.

“Geralt, why do you even want me with you?”

“Because I love you, you colossal idiot!” Geralt shouted, and at least twenty people turned and stared at him.

It seemed he had his voice back. Well, shit. 

“That’s nice,” Jaskier said. “Excuse me, for a moment, Geralt. Ciri could you step over with me and Yennefer, and act quite naturally so the doppler doesn’t kill us all.” Jaskier smiled, and very calmly yanked Ciri behind himself. “Yennefer, please kill the monster?”

“No, that is Geralt.”

“Okay, then the spell took a weird turn? A new spell, because I am certain that I just heard the White Wolf say that he loves me. And that seems like a problem.”

“It is only a problem if you don’t love me back.” Geralt’s throat was raw, the words were ragged after the long months of silence. But they seemed to just be pouring out of him now, and he wished they would stop. “You are the most exhausting, annoying, painful, bothersome, frustrating man I have know. Ever. I want you to shut up and go away at least five times a day. I want to stuff you weird waist sashes into mouth and perhaps sometimes when you get yourself in trouble like you always fucking do, I think just for a second how much easier it would be if you got eaten by a monster.”

“Yes, exactly that there, see that is you. So what was that love bit?” Jaskier stepped forward, and poked a finger against Geralt’s chest. “Are you a ghost inhabiting my friend? Begone spirit! Or a Geralt from another timeline? We are fine with the one we have, we are used to him.” Jaskier poked again. “No possessing Geralt whatever you are.”

“This is so romantic,” Ciri whispered.

“I am sending you some books to better align your ideas of romance,” Yennefer said, “Because this should not be your marker.”

“The love bit was because whenever you aren’t there annoying me, it is too quiet and too boring and too grey.” Geralt cupped Jaskier’s face. “Because as miserable as you sometimes make me, it is far better than the all the time miserable without you.”

“That was a stupid sentence,” Jaskier muttered.

“For once just shut up,” Geralt said.

“Make me,” Jaskier snapped, and Geralt kissed him.

“See, it is romantic!”

“No, it is idiotic.”

Geralt ignored them both. He kissed Jaskier mostly without tongue because their daughter was right there. “Don’t teach here, travel with me. Be with me, until we get sick of each other.”

“I never actually get sick of you,” Jaskier pointed out.

“I haven’t in a decade or so,” Geralt replied.

“Charming.”

“Come with me, write songs about me killing things, and melting my frozen heart. You can even write a song about my cock if you want.”

“Ew, please don’t do that one,” Ciri begged.

Geralt pretended it hurt when Jaskier kicked him.

“I’m not abandoning the school, after I gave my word. They need time to find my replacement. It could take a couple months.” Jaskier smiled a bit. “Suppose you could come back then?”

“No, I’m staying. I’ll teach these whelps to fight while it all gets sorted.”

“I want to stay and teach potions then,” Yennefer demanded.

Ciri was gleeful, “I get my whole family.” They settled Ciri into her rooms, and took over a good portion of the faculty quarters.

Jaskier was fired within a week, something about Yennefer almost starting a revolt, and Geralt putting a dozen children in the hospital for not watching their blind spot enough. Yennefer gave them a wave and disappeared through a portal.

“So, where now?” Jaskier asked. 

Geralt climbed atop Roach, and held out his hand. Jaskier ended up behind him, and they started off at a slow pace. “Hear tell of a drowner to the east.”

“What fun,” Jaskier replied. “Do you know I changed the ending for that one song, the king with the frozen heart?”

“Really?”

“Yes, indeedy, my beloved. Several verses about the wooing, the begging, and cajoling his love to be his. There are gifts and crowns of flowers. There is even crying.”

“That is not how it happened,” Geralt said, as he did for every song Jaskier wrote about him.

“Your memory can’t be trusted, it is exactly how it happened.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt said and then was quiet for the next several hours as Jaskier prattled on about the song. His fingers were linked with Jaskier’s the whole time.  Jaskier had enough words for them both anyways. Geralt didn’t really need to talk. 

When they reached the hunt, Geralt plucked a flower after his victory, and brought it back to Jaskier at their camp. 

“You even found one with only a few splatters of blood. Ciri will find that deathly romantic when she hears it in the ballad I am writing.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and kissed Jaskier, pressed him down into the pallet. One thing they had learned was that Geralt loved to talk to Jaskier during sex, and in a thing that amused them both, Jaskier never said a word.


End file.
